


i missed you

by cosmicaeronaut



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Mutual Pining, salesman au, that weird 50s falloutish vibe where everyone uses full first names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicaeronaut/pseuds/cosmicaeronaut
Summary: "What were we?" Jackson asked. "What were we, and what did you think we were?"Jackson shows up on Gabriel's doorstep one night, and Gabriel is finally forced to come to terms with a few things.





	i missed you

He was on his fifth cup of coffee and third ream of paperwork when there was a knock on the apartment door.

"Dammit, Jesse, if you lost your keys again—" he built to a shout, which died on his tongue when he saw who was behind the door.

It was Jackson. He looked like hell, his hair in all directions, a cut over his right eye, a tear in his infamous sweater vest.

He shut the door anyway.

"No, Gabriel, wait—!" He stuck out his hand and hissed as the edge of the door struck it with a blunt fury. "I want to talk. Please."

"What, it couldn't wait until Monday? Could've saved you a trip: _go to hell._ "

Jackson wormed his way inside, and gently closed the door behind him. Was this how he got his foot in the door?

"Gabe, please, I fucked up."

That caught Gabriel's attention. He finally turned to face him.

"Just recently, Morrison? Or have you finally come to your senses?" It occurred to him that he had been putting Irish cream in his coffee all evening and maybe opening his mouth right now was a bad idea.

"You... you were right." Jackson laughed slightly, mostly to himself. "You were right, I should have never taken this job."

He leaned against the back of the door, and as he crossed his arms a smear of blood stained his usually crisp, white shirt. Gabriel hadn't noticed it, but his knuckles were horribly mangled.

"Jesus, Jackson," he breathed, finally breaking his angry stoicism, "did you walk into a lion's den?"

"What? Oh," he hid his hand out of sight, "it's... nothing."

"No, _sit down._ " He grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him towards the small kitchen table, clearing his paperwork up into piles. Jackson looked dazed, but complied anyways.

Gabriel pulled the shiny new first aid kit he had bought out from under the kitchen sink, setting it up on the table and pulling a chair around to face Jackson's.

Peroxide first. Soft cloth second. Disinfectant, then gauze, then wrap. He was a bit rougher than he might've been with Jesse, and it showed on Jackson's face.

"A year," he murmured, through a wince.

"What?" Gabriel asked, absentmindedly. For just a moment, in his mind, they weren't enemies.

"You haven't used my name in a year." There was a spark in his smile that, Gabriel realized, he hadn't seen for about the same length of time.

Oh, right.

Gabriel pulled the bandage a bit tighter and taped it with conviction, as if to let Jackson know that nothing had changed, then wiped his hands on the damp rag. "What did you want, Morrison?"

"I'm... tired. I'm tired of whatever this petty feud is between us."

He hadn't looked Jackson in the eye in years, not from this close. Gabriel used to get lost in those baby blues.

"You started it, remember? _You_ left _me_ behind."

"I know. God, I know, and I'm... sorry, Gabe. I never considered that you..." he trailed off, as if rethinking his turn of phrase.

Gabriel bit back the lump in his throat, willing his heart to turn a blind eye to the conversation. _It won't_ ever _be like that,_ he could hear Amari hiss to him, _not for someone like_ you — _petty, and vindictive._

"That I what?" he spat, maybe too forcefully. The alcohol didn't usually mess with his words this bad. What had the boys really been keeping in that bottle?

Jackson jumped back a bit, not expecting the force. "Uh, that— that you cared about, uh, me. I always saw you as this, uh, untouchable, you know, force, when we went out on doors together. I only took this job because I... I wanted to be on your level."

Gabriel must've had a _look_ on his face.

"You know, how you— you didn't need charm to sell your product. You knew the lines, you appealed, you networked, you were trusted. Me, I— I'm a face on a box now." Jackson's head dropped, breaking eye contact. "I don't believe in my product, not like you used to. I'm all talk, just a pretty face."

This wasn't how Gabriel's _I-told-you-so_ was supposed to go. He was supposed to take pride in seeing Jackson's fall, seeing his hubris crush itself under its own weight. This is what he had wanted.

And yet.

"Jack," he breathed, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. The anger had vacated, leaving remorse. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, but he found himself leaning forward, his fingers tracing the edges of Jackson's bruised face. His eyes flicked back up to meet Gabriel's.

"What were we?" Jackson asked.

"Hm?" Gabriel asked, now judging the injuries. Someone had definitely beaten the shit out of him.

"What _were_ we," he asked again, "and what did you think we were?"

"Why does it matter now?" Gabriel gave a soft, humorless, sour laugh, brushing Jackson's hair gently to the side to find a deep gash in his scalp. "It won't ever be like that, not for someone like me."

He was definitely more drunk than previously believed. A part of him felt like he was beating on glass, while the rest of him ran rampant. Was Jackson getting closer to him?

"Why not?" Jackson's face tilted upward, and they saw eye to eye. "Says who?"

Gabriel tried to look away, but he found he didn't want to. "Jackson..."

"You _hate_ being stuck at a desk, I know you do. You could've left during the merger, you— you _wanted _to. Amari tried to fire you, she— she tried everything! — but, Mr. Reinhardt made sure you came with him to Slipstream. Or... did you...?"__

__" _I'm there_ because I— I..." Gabriel tried to cut him off, but found no answer in his throat._ _

__Jackson was right._ _

__Why was he still there?_ _

__Gabriel saw himself reflected in Jackson's irises. His shaggy hair, unkempt and greasy, his full beard, overgrown and messy, the bags under his eyes, deep and void. What had driven him to become this husk of a man?_ _

__"You."_ _

__His hand found purchase on the edge of Jackson's sharp, shadowed jaw._ _

__"I missed _you._ "_ _

**Author's Note:**

> hello there! i haven't posted a fic since 2012, welcome to my Grand Renaissance. of course its au fic, i haven't written canon compliance in Literal years
> 
> a note: yeah, jack's name is probably john if it isn't just jack to start with, but jackson fit with the presumed era Real Well and its a little bit more flavorful than "john" is. thanks for reading!


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